


Ashes

by dragonagemage



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Negative Self Talk, Original Character(s), Self-Worth Issues, awkward use of google translate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonagemage/pseuds/dragonagemage
Summary: "Lie to me," he told her, closing his eyes tight, so tight. "Tell me you love me."A Hermann/OC one-shot because he needs more love. Part of a fic I'm currently working on. Newton/OC implied because angst.





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an angsty, self-indulgent exploration of Hermann and Hermann/OC relationship from a fic I'll probably never post. It needs to be mentioned that I love Vanessa, but I only learned about her much later. Since she wasn't mentioned in the movie, I already had a ton of headcanon when I first learned about her. This character exploration is quite old, and part of that headcanon. I simply wanted to share something that's been collecting dust in some folder or another. This is merely a headcanon-y/angsty thing I wrote, and is not meant to represent any dislike of any ship(s) or character(s) others might enjoy. Oh, and yes, I did use google translate for the German line, so I'm sorry if it's wrong or something. As always, I appreciate feedback. Thank you for reading.

She could barely see the lines of his face in the dark. He preferred it this way, that the dark hide the frailty, the shape of his body, all the things she loved most for they were uniquely, unmistakably him. She'd marvel at the softness of his skin, the softness of his half-whispered promises in the dark. The hours in which his soul was laid bare, and bitter, and hurting, and she'd do her best to kiss it better.

No, but he was not broken. Not half as much as he thought he was.

Sometimes it would become too much, his raw hurting, his unadulterated adoration, things he would never say in the light. Things that weighed heavy in his heart, settled there, anchoring him to the world, anchoring him to his day-to-day routine, anchoring him to wherever she was.

It was so much different now, in the middle of war.

She placed a soft kiss on his shoulder, listened for the shuddering drawn breath.

"Lie to me," he told her, closing his eyes tight, so tight. "Tell me you love me."

"Hermann!" She almost chastised him, taking his cheek in her hand against her curled fingers, brushing her knuckles against his skin.

"How can you say this? You know that I love you," she dutifully lied, kissing him. She could not kiss away the bitterness of truth, and his words had it, but he accepted her kisses none the less, eyes shut tight.

"I love you," she said, words tasting like ashes. "I love you so much."

 

 _God, this is something sacred,_ she thought feeling his hands on her skin, his face against the curve of her neck, not to kiss her but to hide shame. _This is something sacred, this is my temple,_ she'd think, feeling him drive into her, her head falling back in bliss; _this is my benediction._

"Liebst du mich?" he'd gasp out against her skin, needing only her confirmation to be utterly lost.

"Yes," she'd whisper, tracing the outline of his spine which showed through his skin, gripping his hips tighter between her thighs, feeling his hold tighten on her waist and his breathing become ragged and fast against her neck.

"I love you. I love you so much."

The words still tasted like ashes.

 

_How can I love them both? How can I be torn asunder like that?  
A day will come when I must choose and I will not survive it._

But at that moment, all that existed was Hermann, and her, skin against skin and their breathless benediction. _This is my forgiveness. This is my absolution. This is my everything._

"I love you," she whispered, and shut her eyes tight, tangling her fingers in his hair before white-hot bliss blossomed in her core, darkness fading to white behind her eyelids. This time the words did not taste like ashes. They tasted like hope. They tasted like judgement.


End file.
